Warrior of Ice
by Suncreeper
Summary: After a nasty fight with the Kraang, Mikey gets lost in the sewers and drifts down to a neighborhood in Georgia. A ten year old boy named TB rescues him and nourishes him back to health. Once he gets better, they decide to journey together to return him back to his brothers in New York City. (Prequel to Blue Mask Red Flame and Hollyday vs Christmas. 2012 version.)


**Before you read...**

This is the prequel to my two other TMNT stories, _The Blue Mask and Red Flame _and _Hollyday vs. Christmas_. So it would be recommended to read them first before this one, but you can read this first before the others if you wish. This won't particularly spoil anything but it might, so I'd be careful. A finale will come that will tie all three stories together so you can be assured that after you finish them, you will have a satisfying ending to top it off :).

The main character for this story is (again) not my OC but rubyhardflame's, who gave me her permission to use them for my series.

If you've read the other two stories, you will notice that they are meant to be romances. This one, however, is not so. The other two starred Ahnnie and Tien, the older siblings, and obviously girls. The main OC for this story is TB, the youngest of the three siblings, and a boy. He is the little brother of the group, being seven years younger than Ahnnie and five years younger than Tien. (Ahnnie is 17 and Tien is 15. Try the math out in your head.) Since he's a kid, this fanfic will be rated K+ and sometimes T for some violence. And only then, violence.

A little info on TB...obviously, as the youngest, he has a little bit of both older siblings in him. But he is his own person! TB, at first glance, is a polite and considerate little boy who would probably be the first to have his cheeks pinched at family gatherings. As you get to know him, you'll see that he's humorous as well as defiant and a little stubborn. Despite his innocent outlook he is also very distrusting of strangers, something that probably resulted from the _BAN MAI_'s trailing his family (for more on the _BAN MAI, _read Blue Mask and Red Flame chapter 2). It is said that he can be a little sneaky too. He's a big fan of medieval knights so you will come to see that in the use of his magic.

Well now, nuff said! Let's get on to the fanfic!

**EDIT:** Oh yeah, forgot to add, this is TMNT 2012 version.

**I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or the three siblings, but am writing this for entertainment purposes only.**

**So, like, read and review!**

* * *

He felt weak. He felt feverish. His cheek laid pressed against a hard and wet surface. His breaths came out in shallow huffs. His stomach echoed in emptiness, having barely the strength to growl. He was either hallucinating in comforting dreams or staring groggily at his surroundings through half-lidded eyes. He had never remembered feeling so miserable in his life, drifting between life and death, sleep and wakefulness...

A rude bump alerted him, bringing his senses back into command, but not by much. A shivering jolt ran up his body as though the vibrations themselves permeated through his muscles and bones. He weakly lifted his cheek off the raft, arms feeling like jelly and head buzzing with dizziness. His light blue eyes scanned the dark area with a something like a hazy film over them. It was just so hard to perceive things clearly, a far cry from the agile ninja he'd once been.

His eyes lazily drifted to the ceiling above him. It wasn't much of a ceiling as it was the roof of a tunnel, and the tunnel in particular was an extension of the sewers. Blurry shapes wavered from side to side as he stared, and as he continued to look they seemed to be taking on a rounder shape. _Round and round we go, where we'll stop, nobody knows_...Before his head would nod off to more sleep, the shapes finally fell in on each other and took on one, unified form.

A manhole cover.

_My chance for escape, _he thought drearily, and sat up to reach it. He wasn't quite tall enough yet, because he was on his knees, and so he corrected that problem by stumbling out of the raft and standing on two shaky feet in the stinking sewer water. His arms reached up above him as though to receive a gift from the gods. Like a drunkard, they missed the mark several times, but after three tries his fingers and palms finally connected with the round metal.

"Nnngh!" He groaned as he pushed up against it, using what seemed like all his strength. The cover budged a little and then weighed back down again. He tried again, straining with all his might. The metallic cover lifted for a few heavenly seconds...and then fell back down. He was pushed backwards from the momentum and almost fell if it hadn't been for his firm footing.

_One more time, _his mind desperately thought. _One more time..._

Raising his arms up again once more, he surged upwards in a sudden burst of power that surprised even himself. This time the manhole cover flew open, and his hands touched not metal but fresh surface air. There was a strange reeling sound and then a crash that did not seem like it came from the overthrown cover, but he could hardly care at the moment. Instead, he started to climb up the ladder steps, having not much strength left to jump out of the hole.

His head had just barely crested the surface when something with two arms and feet stopped him, baring the dastardly shine of a flashlight. He squinted his eyes at the brightness and turned his head away.

"Wh-what are you?" a confused voice asked. It sounded young.

He blinked, trying to get the sting of the light out of his eyes. It was a long while before he would respond, but by then he already felt himself slipping. If he did not get out now, he would fall back down...

"Muh...muh..." he stuttered.

The little human backed away a step, still brandishing its flashlight. "Spit it out!" it demanded.

He tried to find the resolve to finish his response. "Mi...Michelangelo." And then he fainted.

* * *

_Earlier..._

The neighborhood was crowded with people and children. The street where the party was taking place was situated on a road leading to a cul-de-sac, with an intersecting road up to another cul-de-sac to its right, so that it was like a double-headed sunflower. TB's house faced this second cul-de-sac; the houses to his left went down to the other cul-de-sac.

It was a beautiful evening, with the sun sinking down on the horizon and casting a pink glaze over the sky. Tables were laid out at the curb of Grady's house, which was just across from TB's house. There was food and drinks for all, like an outdoor buffet. The adults were frequenting there, stopping to talk with their neighbors. Children occasionally ran up to the tables to snatch a morsel or a new juice box, but were more distracted by their own play to linger.

The party was for Emmanuel Vasquez's family, who lived right next to TB and his family just to the left. It was a goodbye party, for they were going to leave within a few days for Brazil. And they would not come back.

The reason was simple. Emmanuel's father's company was going to need him at another one of their branches down in the South American country. It seemed to be the perfect arrangement, for the entire family was fluent in Spanish and would not be lacking in connections there. But if it could be simply left at that, then their move would sound like a piece of cake, a walk in the park. The truth was that with their leaving, there would be a severance of many friendships that would affect Emmanuel and his sister Aidia.

This particular friendship was between Emmanuel and TB, respectfully.

"Here, Emmanuel," TB said, handing a small wrapped box to the younger boy.

Both boys were sitting at the curb in front of their houses. Their sisters, Ahnnie, Tien, and Aidia were playing with each other one last time. Ahnnie and Tien were teenagers and Aidia was only three, which would make their playing seem a bit strange, but the fact of it was that the two older girls had come to adore the younger one within the span of time that they'd known her. Aidia was a cute, round-faced toddler with big brown eyes and curly golden hair. Who couldn't love her? Even Emmanuel, though seven (and a boy at that) treated his little sister with fondness.

Emmanuel accepted the box with a free hand; his other was holding a plastic cup of soda. "What's this?" he asked. He put his soda cup down so that both hands would be free to rip the wrapping apart.

"No, no, no," TB stopped him. "Open it when you get to Brazil."

"Why?"

"Because it's more special that way."

Emmanuel thought for a moment, and then put the box away in his pocket. "Ok."

"Don't lose it, though."

"I won't."

They were quiet for the umpteenth time again since the party. There didn't seem to be much to say or do, all of a sudden, now that they knew they would not see each other for a long time after three days. They would supposedly be playing as much as they could, but...they just didn't feel like it right now. They knew they would come to regret that later but it was no use. Where there were sympathetic smiles and memorable activities exchanged between the neighbors, there was just sitting and silence between the both of them.

"What is it?" Emmanuel suddenly asked. "What you gave to me, I mean."

"Oh, you'll see," TB replied matter-of-factly.

"Why can't I open it now?" Emmanuel asked again.

"Like I said, it'll be more special that way."

"Can't it be special now?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who made up the rule. I'm just enforcing it."

Truth was, TB had put an enchanted LEGO minifigure in the box. Ok, that sounds weird, doesn't it? But it won't seem so weird if you get to know TB a little better. TB and his two sisters shared a secret; they all had magic. Not even their parents knew of this secret, so it was no wonder Emmanuel didn't either. It was something they had ever since their older sister introduced them to the boundless limits of imagination that she'd been keeping to herself for a long while. That imagination and belief solidified itself into the real thing, and boom...Tien and TB became magicians.

It wasn't very clear how that came to be, either. But it was an amazing thing that TB would never forget, nor discard. With magic, the dull monotony of life vanished and was replaced with new adventures and the ability to do things he'd only dreamed of before. Of course, as a constant reminder, his sister was always preaching to them that they should use their magic in moderation and not allow it to make them lazy. But it certainly lightens up things, especially when your family has to be wary of a hostile organization called _BAN MAI, _or _DAWN _(A/N: again, for more information on it, please check out the story Blue Mask and Red Flame chapter 2). Magic and the power of imagination had allowed him to really be a kid, where the _BAN MAI_'s interference would have taken that all away.

Coming back to the present: the enchanted minifigure was that of Emmanuel's favorite _Star Wars: The Clone Wars _character, Boba Fett. The magic TB put inside would allow the minifigure to move, say a few lines, and fire harmless laser bullets. That was the extent of the enchantment, however, for TB had not sealed a spirit or similar creature inside the plastic to make it truly sentient. And a good thing, too, for who knows what a minifigure with a mind of its own would do?

_He'll be so surprised when he opens it, _the blackhaired ten-year-old thought amusingly to himself. The enchantment would work so that only Emmanuel and Aidia would see it, so there was no worry about Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez finding out.

"Tata!" Aidia suddenly burst in, interrupting them. She was referring to her brother, although TB wasn't sure whether 'tata' was a Spanish term or just made-up baby language. "Ven a jugar conmigo!"

"Ahora no, Aidia," Emmanuel declined.

"Por favor?"

"Yo dije, no!"

The three year old frowned and ran away on her stubby legs back to Ahnnie and Tien. TB, confused, looked after her and then turned back to Emmanuel.

"What did she say?" he asked.

Emmanuel shrugged. "She wanted me to play with her. But I don't want to right now."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause. I don't feel like it."

TB shrugged. "I guess I don't either."

The two boys fell silent again, either staring at the blacktop or up at the sunset in the sky. It was hard to tell where this sudden lack of energy was coming from. The most basic reason TB felt he could find was that he was too sad. Emmanuel was probably the same. But still, it was frustrating when he thought of how his last memories with Emmanuel would involve sitting and moping and sad looks...

"Hey, hey," a five-year-old girl with messy brown locks said, interrupting them again. "Whatcha doing? Why won't you play with Aidia and me?"

TB looked up irritably. "It's Aidia _and I_."

"Yeah," Emmanuel agreed (even though he didn't know about that basic grammar rule himself). "What are _you _doing, Meggie? Why won't you stop bothering us?"

Meggie Stile lived next door to Emmanuel, born to an eccentric father and a quiet yet condescending mother, and sharing the house with two dogs named Oz and Brandy and a cat named...well, Cat. She partook in many un-girly hobbies such as archery, football, hunting, and the like because of her father even though she still loved the Disney Princesses plus all that girly stuff. She didn't seem to mind the strange co-existence, though, and was even proud of it. And even though she knew Emmanuel and TB did not like her much, obviously due to the boy-girl rivalry every little kid shares, she still tried to play with them from time to time.

So Meggie, undeterred, pouted and sat down in front of the both of them. "I'm not bothering you," she protested. "I'm worried for you. My dad says being worried for someone means you care. So you should be lucky that I care."

Emmanuel pulled a face. "Ugh...no thanks."

"Hey!"

TB got in between them. "Meggie, will you _stop _bothering us?"

"No, I'm not bothering you," the five-year-old repeated. "I'm trying to get you to play. So c'mon, play with us! Grady got his soccer ball out. Let's play, let's play!" She began to drag on TB's wrist.

"Play!" Aidia parroted from where she was getting a piggy-back ride, courtesy of Tien.

"Nooo!" Emmanuel groaned. "I don't want to play! I don't want to do anything!"

TB, sighing, jerked his wrist out of Meggie's grasp. "I feel tired."

Grady came over then, holding his soccer ball. He was eight and yet the most mature kid on the block, according to TB. And mature as in terms of _un-__hyperness_. "Why not? It'll be fun. I thought you loved soccer, Emmanuel."

"Yeah, yeah," Meggie reiterated.

"But I don't love it now," Emmanuel whined. "Can you please leave me and TB alone?"

"I just got Caden and his brothers to join, though," Grady protested.

TB knew this situation would get messy soon. Emmanuel, he had observed, had a relatively short fuse and an unconventional way with settling matters; it was either things went his way or he lost his temper, bit by bit. So if Grady were to push things further, Emmanuel might end up bursting out with a very loud "NO!" that could be heard throughout all the neighborhood or even call Grady a horrible name. That, TB knew, would result in Emmanuel's mother making him apologize and then later holing him up in the house for a time-out.

Which, of course, would ruin their evening completely.

_We still have three days, _TB thought. _But we can't just ruin any of those days. _Not like they could improve them, either.

So TB, as the oldest of the group (take note, folks, that he is ten whereas the other kids are below the eight-year mark), took it upon himself to try and resolve matters before they could get any worse...before Emmanuel could end up stirring some bad blood between the other neighborhood kids.

"Hey, guys," he began to say. Meggie and Grady gave him their attention, whereas Emmanuel looked away whilst pouting. "It's ok. We can play later. It's not like the world is going to end if we don't, right? So just give us some time. If we want to play we'll come to you."

"But, but," Meggie was already protesting.

Grady nodded albeit a little disappointedly. " 'Kay. Guess I'll just round up Samson and Michael instead." Samson was the kid with ADHD down the road near the lower cul-de-sac; Michael was Grady's little brother, although he did not enlist his help much due to the fact that Michael was just as young as Meggie. "See you guys later." And he left.

Now there was only Meggie with them, and her lower lip was trembling; a bad sign. _She's going to explode! _TB thought.

"Why won't you play!?" she asked the both of them; anyone listening would've thought they'd committed some sort of crime.

"Because we don't want to!" Emmanuel yelled back, and TB was just about to check his friend before he lost his temper...but luckily for them, Mrs. Stile had arrived on time.

"Meggie," she called. "Get back here. You haven't finished your cake."

"No!" the five-year-old whined.

"Come on, _now._" Mrs. Stile grabbed Meggie's wrist and proceeded to drag her away...the kindergartener was complaining and whining all the way back.

Emmanuel shook his head. "She is _so _weird. And annoying! Geez, why does she even bother anyway..."

TB shrugged. "I don't know. Girls."

Tien scoffed, for she'd been close enough to hear their talk. "Um! Hello? Who do you have as sisters? Boys?"

The ten-year-old pretended to look thoughtful. "Ok, not you two," TB relented.

"Should've said so in the first place," Tien said, looking a tad more satisfied.

Emmanuel giggled a while later when Tien was out of earshot. "Your sister's funny."

"I know, right?" TB agreed. "Unlike Chi Hai*, who's always so gloomy!"

"I heard that," Ahnnie said as she passed by.

"Ahnnie is gloomy?" Emmanuel asked, confused. During the time that he'd come to know their family, Ahnnie hadn't exactly struck him as 'gloomy'...just quiet and a little reserved.

"Yeah," TB nodded. "She's always listening to sad music that makes you want to cry and she's always talking about being serious and stuff. I think some people call that 'emo'."

Ahnnie whirled around. "I am _not _emo!"

"What's emo?" Emmanuel asked.

"Emo is when you're someone whose favorite color is black, has chronic depression, and contemplates suicide," Ahnnie explained with a tiny bit of sarcasm. "And look at me; I'm wearing a _white _shirt, for goodness' sake. Listening to more soothing songs than techno doesn't exactly qualify as 'emo', and neither does preaching about seriousness."

TB smiled mischievously. "If you say so..."

"Yeah, if you say so," Emmanuel echoed.

"Oh, whatever," Ahnnie said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. But when she turned her back on them to leave, she was hiding an amused smile.

After Ahnnie, though, no one else came up to talk to the two boys. Once again, they were left on their own, open to private conversation. TB felt himself growing a little thirsty, so he got up momentarily to fetch some soda from the table. He smiled politely at the adults as he tried to worm past them to reach a cup, and then finally the soda bottle. He carefully poured the drink, screwed the cap back on, and went back to where he was sitting with Emmanuel.

The two of them clinked their cups together saying 'cheers', and then taking a swig out of their cups. It was, by far, the most cheerful gesture they had done ever since the party started.

Emmanuel took another sip of his soda, staring down at the bottom of the cup for a while. "TB?" he asked again. "Will you still remember me when I'm gone?"

"Why do you sound like you're going to die?" TB countered.

The other boy giggled and shook his head. "Nooo, I'm not going to die! I'm just saying, when I'm in Brazil. Will you still remember me?"

"Oh." TB felt a little ridiculous, but he put the blame of his slip-up on all the Vietnamese dramas his family watched. As a result he watched them too, and often absorbed the melodramatic lines. "Well of course I'd still remember you. Just because you're going doesn't mean I'll forget you forever."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Emmanuel!" a woman's voice was calling. "Your cousins called you! Come here and talk to them." Her voice was laden with an obvious Spanish accent.

Emmanuel got up. "Coming, Mom!" He turned back to TB. "I'll be back," he promised, and ran to his mother to answer the phone.

* * *

Later, when the party was over and everyone safely in their houses, Ahnnie noticed TB's melancholy looks. In a typical older-sister fashion, she came over to ask the boy about it.

"Now there," she said. "What's wrong?"

TB sighed. "Nothing."

"Is it about Emmanuel?"

"...maybe."

Ahnnie gave him a sad smile. "It's hard when a friend has to go like that...but you'll get over it in time. People come and go in our lives; it's the way things are."

TB nodded. "Yeah."

Tien then appeared and sat down with them, unpeeling a banana. "You should've played more with him. You two were just sitting and looking all sad; not even Aidia could convince either of you to play. How's that a way to spend your last three days with each other?"

TB looked at her. "You sent Aidia over, didn't you?"

Tien shrugged. "So what if I did?"

Bentley, their husky, presently came over wanting some attention. He gave the sad little boy a lick on the face and then laid down at their feet, resting his head on his paws. It was near bedtime, hence his lack of hyper activity. So it was with all the other dogs in the house, and that number came up to a total of four mangy mutts (including Bentley).

The first was Leiko, a saddle brown medium-sized and fierce-spirited German Shepherd/Basset hound/Corgi mix. Second was Bentley, the black-and-white Siberian husky with striking blue eyes and markings over them that put his face in a perpetual glare. The other two, Ming-Ming and Cao-Cao were both American Akitas. Ming-Ming was the older one, a red pinto with a black mask. Cao-Cao was the youngest, a silvery-chocolate brown with black edgings.

The number seems overwhelming, especially for a household targeted by the _BAN MAI_. But, as you may have guessed, the dogs aren't there just for show. They, too, knew magic, which the three siblings taught to them. While there was no way for them to communicate with words, they were able to learn through typical dog training, only with a magical twist.

TB rubbed Bentley's side with his foot. "I knew it was you, anyway," he said in response to Tien's remark.

"Then why didn't you play with each other?" she continued.

He shrugged. "I don't know...can you stop asking me? I don't want to talk about it."

Ahnnie shook her head firmly when Tien was about to say something else, and silenced the ponytailed girl. "I'm going to put Bentley in his kennel now," Ahnnie said, and got up to coax the dog away. Clicking her tongue several times, she caught the husky's attention and gestured for him to follow. "Come on, boy. Come on. Let's go to bed. Come on. Good boy!"

The attentive husky followed her while sniffing at her fist with his black nose. They were eventually out of the room, and as TB sat listening he could hear the sliding door of the back yard being opened where Ahnnie was leading Bentley to his kennel. She was also promptly surrounded by the other dogs as they too wished to be tucked into bed.

"What babies," Tien playfully smirked as she ate her banana.

TB smiled, but his distant look showed that he wasn't focusing on the dogs.

Tien, catching notice of it, tried not to grumble as she found some more words to say. "Hey, listen," she said. "Don't be feeling too bad about it. It's like Chi Hai said, people come and go. I thought you were used to it by now. 'Cause, you know, we change acquaintances every now and then because of...them." She was referring to all the people they'd come to know and then leave because of the _BAN MAI. _Either those people were influenced by the _BAN MAI_, had to be left because of the _BAN MAI_, or left to avoid the _BAN MAI_.

"I know," the little boy said. "But it's still hard."

Tien put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon. You gotta be tougher than that. Sometimes it's less painful to cut the limb off in one fell swoop...you know what I mean?"

TB made a face. "Uh...I think..."

She gave him a rewarding pat on the back. "Atta boy! Just think of it like a festering wound. If you don't get rid of it, it'll kill you."

"Uh...sure..."

She left with a wink to dispense of her empty banana peel.

TB sighed, not really knowing how to take her advice to heart. Emmanuel had been his first friend, after all, who was not met through adventures or involved with magic. He was his first _normal _friend. How could he come to see the separation without any pain? And didn't victims of quick amputations begin to hurt three seconds after the cutting?

He wordlessly got up off the couch and went to stare out the door, out at the dark street and silent houses illuminated by orange lamplight. He usually did this to see what the neighbors around them were up to, and it seemed to give him some comfort now what with his unhappy thoughts.

Grady's house still had its lights on. Next to him was Caden, and his family still seemed to be up, too. To the left, Emmanuel's house was dark; his parents usually put him to bed early, which was nothing new. The Stiles weren't home; Mr. Stile packed his wife, his daughter, and the two dogs in his pickup truck and drove them off somewhere.

But something caught TB's eyes at the Stile house. It looked like a blur of movement underneath the basketball hoop they'd erected on top of a manhole cover that sat in front of their house. The hoop was weighed down with bricks instead of the usual water, so its base was flattened and generally warped out of shape. The movement TB thought he saw seemed to have slid one of the bricks off onto the sidewalk.

_That's strange, _the ten-year-old thought, and continued focusing on the basketball hoop. There was nothing new for a few seconds, but when it happened a second time the hoop visibly lurched and another brick slid off.

_Ok, something's_ definitely_ wrong! _Without another thought, he promptly unlocked the door and shouldered it open and; oh, wait, he forgot the flashlight. He ran back into the house for a brief moment to rifle through the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink where he was sure the flashlight was. When he got hold of it, he slammed the cabinet shut and ran back out, barefoot, down the driveway and to the hoop at Mr. Stile's house.

He wasn't afraid of being attacked in the night by a random stranger or wild animal; he had his magic to back him. For now, as a young pre-preteen boy, he did not seem like anyone to put up a fight, but if something or someone were to try anything...well, he'd show them all right.

TB switched the flashlight on as he was running, making the light bounce crazily all over the sidewalk. When he reached Emmanuel's driveway, he began to walk more cautiously, this time pointedly aiming the flashlight at the base of Mr. Stile's basketball hoop. There was no more movement as of yet, but TB wasn't about to let it go. He had experience with monsters and mystical creatures before, and even if it wasn't any of those; even if it was just an animal; there had to be safety measures taken that he felt his magic could solve better than animal control.

Besides, if one were smart, one would know that this wasn't ordinary; after all, what could possibly be in the sewers and big enough to push the manhole cover (with a basketball hoop on top of it), if not something unnatural?

He stopped a few feet away from the hoop, the flashlight aiming at the brick-flattened base and the cover below. His breath was bated, waiting for the next lurch or push. However, for a few seconds, nothing happened. TB worried that the monster or whatever it was gave up; what if it had moved on, to another cover? He let out a little hiss of breath, still keeping the flashlight in its place. Perhaps if he waited just another second; maybe a millisecond more...

Just as he'd thought so, the manhole suddenly burst open. The basketball hoop on top of it careened and then finally, collapsed; luckily, far from hitting him. The crash had taken him by surprise, making him stumble back with a very audible gasp. He quickly swiped out his left hand, the free one, and crystalline ice materialized over it in a sort of gauntlet. That was TB's primary magical power; ice. The ice gauntlet covered his entire hand, ending with a sharpened point. Obviously, he was preparing himself for the worst.

Shortly after the catastrophe, TB could hear something laboring to exit the hole. It sounded wet, a little heavy, and tired. Judging from the breathing, whatever it was sounded quite human...but what kind of human would have had enough strength to overcome a manhole and basketball hoop?

It was coming up, closer and closer...he kept the flashlight aimed at the top of the hole so that he would see what it was. When it came up, a little while later, TB saw the beginnings of a smooth, green head bobbing above the surface. The rest of the face came up, and then the shoulders and chest...

But what _was _it? It looked humanoid, but nothing like he'd ever seen. Green skin the color of sickened greens, a shell-like growth upon its back, an orange mask with cut-out eyeholes over its eyes...once he tried piecing it all together, he was put in mind of a giant turtle mutant-burglar.

The turtle mutant-burglar, having exposed its delicate eyes to the glare of the flashlight, turned its head painfully away. It offered no explanations though, or threats or pleas of mercy...it just stayed silent.

"Wh-what are you?" TB almost yelled out. His words were fueled by horror, confusion, and amazement.

The turtle blinked, obviously bothered by the flashlight, but not fighting against it. The more TB stared, the more he came to realize that this turtle was struggling to even stay awake, much less respond. _So he's not very strong, _the little boy thought. _At least right now._

Despite that, the turtle's green mouth began to move. "Muh...muh..." it stammered.

The turtle was now known as a 'he', for the sound of the voice proved it to TB. That seemed to put some sort of awe and fear within him, and the little boy went back a step. _What if he's faking weakness in order to attack? _"Spit it out!" he ended up commanding.

"Mi...Michelangelo." And without so much as a shudder, the turtle fainted.

TB did not know why, but he reached out to the orange-masked turtle before he could slip back down into the sewers. He even dismissed his ice gauntlet so that he could pull the turtle up with both hands; the flashlight was dropped on the sidewalk, where it cracked its lens and shuttered out its light. Michelangelo; for that was what TB assumed to be the turtle's name; was heavy, especially for a little boy whose overall build could be considered scrawny. When he was finally laid fully out on the pavement, he was still unconscious, but breathing shallowly.

TB released his hands from the wet turtle and with a shuddering grimace realized that they were now drenched in the neighborhood's flushed toilet water. He immediately began to engulf the dirtied hands with ice, and then willed the ice to melt so that the freshly made water would wash away the sewer water. Of course, this was no substitute for washing hands; he'd have to do that formally once back in the house.

Speaking of the house, TB picked up the broken flashlight and stared at it ruefully. He would have to return it and, no doubt, explain its state to his parents. That, or he could convince his sisters into helping him repair it. He was no master at fixing things, but hopefully Ahnnie or Tien would have a spell on hand.

But the flashlight was not that important now. What was most important, and what he had been trying not to think of as he was looking at the flashlight, was the fallen Michelangelo. What was he going to do with the turtle? Leave him on the sidewalk, to be discovered by the neighbors the very next day? Or if he woke up, let him roam free? What if he was dangerous? How would TB answer for the strange walking turtle phenomena then?

_What is it that people usually do in such cases? _he wondered. _I know I read about it before. If I can't let him go...then I can..._

_That's right! I'll keep him as my prisoner. Or, at least, that's how I'll call it. _

TB bent down beside the turtle, just to make sure that he'd be harmless enough to even be considered as a prisoner. There was, in truth, a third option, and that was to kill him. TB wasn't heartless, though; he just had to know whether it was worth it or not first, and then he would take action. It wasn't very honorable to attack a helpless enemy, either.

First, he felt Michelangelo's forehead. The turtle had seemed a bit tired and TB wanted to make sure if he was sick. The back of his hand was met with very hot green skin, and so TB knew that the orange-masked turtle was running a fever. Second, he flipped Michelangelo onto his shell. When he had dragged the turtle out, he was left stomach-down, so TB found himself obliged to inspect the underside; he knew it was the most vulnerable part of the turtle and if this turtle was feigning weakness to surprise him, then surely he'd spring back up at the last moment and lash out.

This was not so, however, as TB successfully flipped him over and met with no resistance. There was not even a groan or moan. Without the flashlight, unfortunately, the little boy could not see much. However, the dim streetlights were able to reveal a series of burns and cuts upon the turtle's stomach and shoulders.

_He's injured, _was TB's second calculation about the turtle. _So in addition to keeping him for interrogation, I'll have to nourish him and make sure he gets better. _

This was all information given to him through ninja training with the shinobi of Konoha on how to deal with important hostages; the boy considered him important hostage enough for all that, since he'd really like to know what a turtle mutant was doing trying to crawl up the sewers in front of Mr. Stile's house. He also decided that he'd like to do this on his own, without the help of his sisters, for really they interfered with his business enough. He knew it was because he was the baby brother of the family, but he didn't want to be treated that way.

_And besides, _TB thought, _Chi Hai ahd Chi Tien would scream at the sight of him. They'd make me throw him out. _

His eyes caught sight of two handle-like stubs protruding out from the shell behind Michelangelo's shoulders; he pulled them out, and to his surprise, he found himself holding two perfectly symmetrical nunchaku.

_Ninja weapons! A ninja turtle! Chi Hai and Chi Tien wouldn't like this for sure. I'll be keeping these for now. _For that was what one did with prisoners; strip them of their belongings, especially their weapons.

TB stuffed them into the pocket of his pants. Both pockets were enchanted with extra dimensions, like any purse or bag or pocket that belonged to the three siblings, so the two unseemingly-sized nunchaku slid in with ease. Then he turned his attentions upon Michelangelo. The destined prison cell for this turtle was TB's own room, but to get there he would have to drag the turtle through the house for all to see _unless; _he found some way to get the turtle into the backyard, and then hoist him up through his room's window.

He knew just the way to do it. Before he did anything, though, he stuffed the now-worthless flashlight into the same pocket and then set to work dragging Michelangelo with his feet. The turtle was much lighter when lying shell-down for some reason, and pulling him by his feet would be less painful than by his arms. So it was a moderate task for TB to drag the turtle in front of his house's driveway.

Once there, he stopped and let Michelangelo lie still there so that he could rush to the backyard and enlist some help. He opened the backyard gate ever so quietly and ran as soundlessly as he could onto the grass. He was headed for the dog kennels, where each canine was sleeping peacefully. The boy managed to avoid the attentions of Leiko, Ming-Ming, and Cao-Cao but awoke Bentley. This was his intention, however.

TB put a finger to his lips to silence the dog, who understood as it was taught as a command. Then he opened the door of the kennel and watched as Bentley slinked cautiously out. TB slowly closed it again and then beckoned the husky to follow him. Before leaving, TB took down a harness that hung on a nail on the wall outside Bentley's kennel. Then both boy and dog raced out of the backyard, onto the paved driveway, and then at the feet of the still unconscious Michelangelo.

Bentley obviously saw something wrong with this half-human half-turtle and the fur on his neck began to rise aggressively. TB, however, checked him out of it and persuaded the husky to keep still while he put the harness over Michelangelo's bulky body. It was hard, especially since the turtle was a little too big for it, but TB figured out a way by skipping the shell and just tying two strips together at the shoulders. It would still drag Michelangelo along and not hurt him.

Then he turned to the husky and put the corresponding, smaller harness on the dog. Bentley was confused, but dared not to disobey. He stood patiently as the boy fumbled with some straps of the harness in the dim lamplight, and even as TB went to recheck both harnesses.

"All right," TB said, satisfied with his work. "Hike!"

The husky bolted for the backyard upon the boy's command, running with such speed that TB was alarmed. He chased after the husky (closing the backyard gate now, of course) and was relieved to see that the dog cleverly stopped on a patch of grass and did not drag the turtle over onto the wooden deck where the kennels were. "Good boy," he congratulated a little shakily, for he had expected the worst when he'd seen Bentley go at such a speed.

Here, he unstrapped the harness off the dog and let him go back to his kennel. TB followed only to close the door of the kennel and then came back to Michelangelo to undo his straps as well. Then it was only a matter of dragging the turtle by his feet up onto the deck, a few feet away from the glass sliding door (thank goodness the house inside was dark). He knew what to do afterwards.

TB chanted a spell in a language unknown to even the most foreign of foreigners, and as he chanted black smoke whirled around the points of his shoulder blades. The smoke thickened and hardened until they became solid, leathery, miniature dragon wings.

Of the three siblings, only TB flew with visible wings. He seemed to prefer it that way, too, and lifted himself off the ground effortlessly as he pumped the two wings into action. He flew up and up and up until he found himself facing his bedroom window; he took out the insect screen and lifted the window open. Once finished, he stuck his hand inside and pulled out a shining gold rope that he extended for his next purpose.

On his way back down, TB carried the rope with him, so that it became one golden trail against the mocha-beige of the house's sliding. He swiftly flew over to Michelangelo and tucked the rope under and around him so as to tie it in an enveloping lasso. Once he had the turtle tied up, he flew back up to his bedroom window and crawled into it, landing on the floor of his room.

It was here that he dismissed his dragon wings and hurriedly changed himself into a pair of orange-and-grey PJs. Once this was done, he was going to 'hit the hay', for he was tired. After having discarded his dirty clothes into a laundry basket, he turned his attentions back to the golden rope, which lay waiting for him to pull.

And pull, he did. His eyes never left the turtle on the deck below, and he watched as he was raised higher and higher with each pull of the rope. TB eventually had to use magic on the rope so that the pulling would be lighter. When Michelangelo finally came in front of the window, TB tied the rope to his bedpost and opened the window higher. Then he squeezed the turtle through with a satisfying _pop! _

TB quickly undid the rope on Michelangelo and tucked it under his bed. He went through his closet and pulled out a large blanket, which he set aside next to his own bed. A spare pillow and then another blanket came down with it. Then he iced the turtle over, melting the ice and then taking up the water (which he threw out his window), cleaning him momentarily of his sewer grime. Once that was done, he dragged the orange-masked turtle over onto the makeshift bed he'd just created and draped the blanket over the turtle's body. After a moment of contemplating, TB took the orange mask off and set it on his nightstand.

_There, _he thought. _Now to wash my hands, and then get some sleep._

And that was what TB did; head to the bathroom to thoroughly wash his hands, and then come back for a session of much-needed sleep. The only thing different, of course, was the rag of warm water he strained and placed across the ailing turtle's forehead. "See you in the morning," the little boy said before he settled into bed himself.

* * *

***Chi Hai means 'oldest sister' in Vietnamese. The word Chi alone just means sister.**


End file.
